


Waking Up

by agent85



Series: Written Before Season 2 [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fitz gets a therapist, Jemma gets a friend/mentor, what a concept
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:47:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3245138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent85/pseuds/agent85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her patient, when awake, is usually groggy. She notes that his periods of true awareness are becoming longer and more frequent. She often thinks of something she told Skye once, that she likes doing what's expected of her, but the closer that Fitz gets to communicating, the more Jemma starts to fear the expectations that Fitz will have. She knows that he feels the tension between them, possibly as keenly as she does, because she can see the longing in his eyes. Was it always there? How could she have never noticed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She divides her time between extremes, these days. Between desperation and anger, affection and betrayal. Jemma watches him lie there, day after day, finding solace and indignation in the way his chest continues to rise and fall, rise and fall. After all these weeks, Fitz has stayed the same. Sometimes she's jealous of the way he stays so constant, when she can't.

She is grateful, of course. Beyond grateful. She's astonished, really, at his sacrifice. Or maybe it's the reason behind it that she finds so shocking.

How long has she known Leopold Fitz? It feels like a lifetime. Like eternity. And yet, she didn't know that things had changed between them. She didn't realize that he had feelings for her.

She certainly didn't expect him to try and die for her.

Still, it had happened. Jemma can't help but replay that moment again, as she watches his chest rise one more time. It had started a little like this, with him watching her sleep. It had ended in her screaming at him, with an explosion and a punch to the gut that didn't compare to the fear of losing him.

The real blow came the moment that she realized that he intended to stay behind. That they only had one breath, and he was going to make her take it. She had rejected that notion without a thought. She'd been willing to scrap that plan and start from scratch, even though the time was already running out, just to find a way to get out of that pod together. He was her best friend, after all. She hadn't imagined that he would ever do that to her, that he would ever put her in a position like that. She would survive, yes, but what kind of life would she be left with? Would she ever overcome the guilt and regret of taking the life away from someone who spent so much time by her side?

And then he told her. He had said that she was more than a friend to him, and that she wasn't taking his life from him. He was giving it to her. To show her what he couldn't say out loud.

And she knew what he meant, but she didn't. She still doesn't. But she remembers the gasping breath she took, that even though their supply of oxygen was finite and dwindling, she had needed that strength at the moment her whole world collapsed. Sinking to the bottom of the ocean, she could handle. She and Fitz would either find a way out, or she would content herself with the fact that they had done their best, and that they wouldn't die alone. But this? This almost broke her. This meant that her universe was not what she thought it was, and she reached for him as she felt it unraveling, holding him tight as the shock permeated through her. She didn't know how to react until she found herself kissing him, because he needed to know that he meant that much her. Her lips landed on his cheeks, his forehead, everywhere except for his mouth, the part of him she didn't understand. She only knew that when he smiled at her and pressed that button, she didn't have the wind knocked out of her, the way he predicted. She had given her last breath willingly, forcefully, asking him to give her more time, to help her find a way for both of them. But she was too late. In the end, she had to figure that out herself.

And now? Now, she has all the time in the world, and it doesn't do her any good.

She reads to him, sometimes. Her resources at the Playground are limited, it being a secret base and all, but she found the e-reader that her parents bought her before she shipped off. They thought that she would need something to do during her downtime on the BUS, but it had ended up forgotten in the bottom of her duffel bag. Now, she arms herself with it every time she goes to see him, and sometimes she has the courage to speak. Just not in her own words. But she'll give him the words of others, of people who know how to use them, people who know how things will end up. She envies them, too.

She makes sure to limit her time in his room, or she avoids it; she's still not sure. But when she works in the lab, she keeps turning to tell him something, and when he's not there it's like expecting an extra step at the top of a staircase. So she watches him through the camera feed, watches him continue to breathe in and out when she wants to scream and cry all at once.

After all this time, she only knows that she doesn't know how to live without him. That a part of her will not wake until he does. But she also doesn't know how to live without her parents, and hadn't she said the same thing about Skye? Needing him isn't the same as loving him. Or maybe it is. But it isn't the kind of love that makes a person more. Not necessarily.

Sometimes, she looks at him and whispers his first name, just to see how it would feel on her tongue. She tries to picture it, what it would be like if they were together, but she always stops in a panic. There really is no way to know, is there? And when she's really honest with herself, she wonders how this would have been if he wasn't hovering between life and death. If he had told her over a drink, or even in a heated moment in the lab, would she feel like this? Would she feel this crushing obligation to return his feelings? She imagines scenario after scenario, but she doesn't know if there was a good way to tell her. She only feels that this isn't fair.

When it's been a month, she realizes that she has too much time. And she probably never needed it anyway, considering the good it's done her.

But when he wakes up, and he turns to smile at her, she changes her mind. Time is the only thing she needs.

When she takes a deep breath and forces herself to be rational, she can tell herself that everything is going as expected. Fitz's recovery will be slow and steady. It will take a while to really determine how much of him has come back, and how much has been lost forever. He knows her, though. That was one of her deepest fears. He knows her, but he can't say her name. He can't say anything, at the moment. He'll need someone to help him rebuild the muscles that have atrophied while he slept. So she holds his hand and smiles back, knowing that one day they will have to talk about what happened. But they won't talk about it today. Maybe she'll be ready by the time that conversation comes. Maybe it will never come at all.

But she knows that she's kidding herself if she thinks she can avoid this talk indefinitely. Even if he doesn't remember what happened in the pod, even if he doesn't remember her being more, she will. Even if they start their entire friendship over from scratch, she'll know that he can love her enough to die for her. And she will spend all that time waiting for that shoe to drop.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The one thing that comforts Jemma is the knowledge that she doesn't have to fight to get Fitz the care he needs. Coulson tells her that they're flying in a team, just as she opens her mouth up to ask. They were going to come anyway, he explains. They're going to help with all the rebuilding that needs to be done. The moment Coulson speaks the name of Henry and Anita Cahill, she lets go of all of her worry for Fitz. They're the best there is. Now, she only has to worry about herself.

She finds herself waiting for them to arrive, the way she once waited for her team. This time, though, there is not quite so much dread mixed in with the anticipation. She will not have to find the words to tell them what has happened to Fitz; they'll have already read the reports she struggled to write. Once they arrive, she doesn't have to be Jemma anymore. She can be Dr. Simmons again, because that is how they will see her. That will be like drinking a glass of cool water in the desert.

She recognizes Henry Cahill from the photo that accompanied a few of his more brilliant articles. He is tall and well-built for a man in his mid-thirties, but what Simmons notices is the smile that makes her feel that everything will be okay. She doesn't recognize his wife, but she knows instantly that she is just as capable as her husband. Together, they look more like a team of superheroes than a team of scientists. But maybe they will be both, for Fitz.

Simmons is at first confused at the cold greeting that the Cahills receive from Billy Koenig, but she understands when he tells them that their machine needs work. They must have helped Fury design the lie detector; how could she have missed that? That's the other reason they're here. To fix the machine that told them Ward was worth trusting. The machine that was supposed to stop all of this, and failed them all. Her stomach drops as she is once again filled with competing emotions that must be masked by professionalism.

She manages to give them a greeting that, unlike Billy's, doesn't accuse them of murder, and they follow her to Fitz. The moment the three of them enter the room and take in the weak engineer, one Cahill nods to another, and they go to work in a way that seems oddly familiar. Simmons just watches and waits for them to need her. But all the questions are directed at Fitz, who barely seems to notice them. Instead, he keeps his eyes on her, and when she gives him a reassuring smile, he shakes his head or nods in answer to their inquiries. She remembers giving him this smile before, when he was about to go off into danger and leave her to worry about him. She felt helpless then, too.

Henry Cahill's dominance in the fields of brain chemistry and physiology were well-known to Simmons before he arrived, but she learns that Anita is a world-class psychologist. After Anita does a quick assessment of Fitz's mental state, she lovingly squeezes her husband's arm and excuses herself to examine the lie detector. Henry watches her leave, and Simmons takes another breath as she recognizes his smile.

"How long have you two been working together?"

It's an innocent question, she knows. It feels like an attack anyway, even with Henry's unassuming tone.

"Since the Academy," she manages to answer.

"And you've been together ever since?"

Simmons pauses. "Professionally, yes."

"Don't worry," he says with a chuckle, "I married my lab partner, but I don't expect everyone else to do the same. Not every professional relationship can translate into a personal one. I'm sure Anita can explain in greater detail."

It takes her a second to realize that he's teasing her, and she smiles gratefully. 

Fitz progresses slowly, but surely under the direction of the Cahills, and Simmons gets accustomed to splitting her time between working with Henry and caring for Fitz by herself. Her patient, when awake, is usually groggy. She notes that his periods of true awareness are becoming longer and more frequent. She often thinks of something she told Skye once, that she likes doing what's expected of her, but the closer that Fitz gets to communicating, the more Jemma starts to fear the expectations that Fitz will have. She knows that he feels the tension between them, possibly as keenly as she does, because she can see the longing in his eyes. Was it always there? How could she have never noticed?

She still has no words for him, but he is content to hold her hand and listen to her read a book she found on capuchins. Sometimes he strokes her hand with his thumb, and she freezes internally. Even if she wanted to date him, she would have no idea how to do it. She has had zero experience with turning a lab partner into a romantic partner. She finds herself consulting Google during lunch, but she quickly hides her tablet when Henry comes to sit next to her.

"I just gave Fitz his weekly progress exam," Henry says, picking up a sandwich from his tray, "I'm hoping that he will be able to speak more than grunts in a day or two."

Simmons swallows. "And what does that entail?"

"It'll just be simple words at first, but the hard work has already been done. His progress should pick up pace from here on out. And since Anita says that his memories are mostly in tact, I'm optimistic that he'll make a full recovery. Once we've got him in shape mentally, I'll have to work with him to get the physical aspect up to par. That will take a little longer."

She nods and thanks him as she leaves, hoping he won't notice the nervousness that is making her palms sweat. By now, she has learned that she can't prepare for the conversation ahead of her, and without preparation, she has no idea what will happen.

A few days later, and she is checking his vitals as she watches him sleep one more time.

"Jemma?"

She stops on her way out the door and freezes. There was a time when she thought she'd never hear her name coming from those lips again, and the sound of it courses through her like a bolt of lightning. She turns around.

"Fitz."

All of a sudden, she's not dreading this moment, she's aching for it. She's standing beside him now, waiting. All she wants is to hear his voice again, no matter what it is he has to say.

"Jemma," he stammers, his mouth moving with great effort, "Jemma, I re- remem-" Her heart breaks as she watches him struggle over the words.

"You remember?" she finishes. He nods. "Remember what?"

He gives her a look, and her spine tingles, because she knows. But she still needs to be sure.

"I . . . I told y-you. You a- are mo-"

"More," she says. "Yes, I remember, too."

She remembers the embrace, and the kisses, and she suddenly wants to do it all over again, to hold him and beg him not to make her leave him. Instead, she takes a breath, and she feels his hand take hers.

"I kn-know you d-don't," he says, and she looks up to see his sad smile.

"What do you mean?"

He closes his eyes for a moment, as if gathering strength. "You d-don't f-f . . ."

"Feel the same way."

He nods, and she sees the tears that are trying to escape his eyes. She's fighting back tears of her own.

"S'ok-kay." He's still trying to smile at her, even though his tears are streaming down his cheeks now. "S'okay Jemma. I kn-know."

"Oh, Fitz." She's flooded with relief, with grief, and a thousand other nameless things. He tried to die for her, once. This must be killing him now.

"Fitz, you really are my best friend in the world." She squeezes his hand to show him the tenderness she feels, because being her best friend is not a consolation prize. It's the greatest compliment she knows how to give. "And, you know, to be honest, before you told me, I never thought-" Her voice catches, "I never thought about more. We were always . . . us."

She searches his eyes for understanding, and she finds it. It's hiding behind tears, but it's there. She wonders if not too long ago, he too was content with things the way they were. 

"And then . . . Fitz, I almost lost you. And all of a sudden, everything was different."

She watches him nod, a small smile creeping from the corners of his mouth.

"Y-you j-jumped."

She's not sure what he means, until she remembers how feverish she felt when she looked back at him, watching him scream at her behind glass. That must have been the moment.

It's one thing to leave, she thinks. It's quite another thing to watch someone leave you.

"I'm not going anywhere, Fitz." She leans over him and kisses him on the forehead to prove it. "I'm not sure what's going to happen, but whatever it is, we'll figure it out. Together."

She wakes up later that night and finds herself still there, bent over his hospital bed, still holding his hand. She gives him a second forehead kiss and goes back to her own bed. As she drifts off to sleep, she realizes that she misses him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may/may not have named Henry Cahill after Henry Cavill. And they may/may not look exactly alike. Also, Anita Cahill may/may not have gotten into underwear modeling to pay for grad school in Brazil (where she's from). I couldn't figure out how to put these tidbits in the text, since Jemma is not thinking about these things, so there you go.


	3. Chapter 3

Henry's predictions turn out to be correct, and Fitz's speech is getting better by the day. As he progresses, the Cahills switch gears, with Anita spending the majority of her time with Fitz, while Henry continues work on the lie detector.

"How's it going?" Simmons asks, as she sits down next to Henry for lunch. Over the past few weeks, she's gotten used to working with him, and they've built up quite a rapport. While she appreciates what Anita is doing for Fitz, assessing his memory loss and helping him deal with his trauma, Simmons can't sit in on their sessions the way she did when Henry was working with Fitz. Now, when she's in the lab, she finds herself staring at a dark screen.

"Well," Henry says, swallowing, "I'm about to submit my report to Coulson. Anita has poured over all the data, including bio metric readings, transcripts, etc. She's been driving herself crazy finding a flaw in the program. So I've been checking her work, just in case I can see something she missed. But I don't think that there's anything to see."

"What do you mean?"

"Anita thinks that the late Agent Koenig broke protocol, and so far I agree with her." He must see the confusion on Simmons' face, because he continues. "One of the main functions of the machine is to track physical reactions to varying stimuli. As you know, when the brain reacts to something, the body reacts too, with changes in temperature, moisture, even movement. But when the brain is also dealing with pain . . ."

"Those reactions change." Simmons finishes.

"Exactly. And that distorts the readings. So when we helped Fury write the protocols, we made sure to add instructions not to test people with recent wounds."

"Like Ward's broken ribs."

He nods, and she recalls treating the former specialist. "Yes, I think that's part of it. Agent Koenig, Eric Koenig that is, asked him about his pain. It shows in the transcripts. Then, Koenig instructs him not to move, knowing it will affect the results. But he was supposed to shut the interview down right there and put Ward in a holding cell. My guess is that Ward was selling his honesty so well that Koenig bought it, or at least thought he could handle it."

Simmons furrows her brow. "But I thought that the machine was good enough to beat Romanoff. It records so many variables."

"Ninety-six, yes. But the ninety-seventh variable is the person who runs the machine. According to the transcripts, the machine picked up spikes quite a few times during the interview, and each time, Ward was able to talk around it. And it's likely that he was causing himself pain on purpose somehow; that's an old spy trick. Usually it's something stuck under the fingernails."

Suddenly, Simmons feels her fingernails ache.

Henry takes a deep breath, and lets it out as he stirs the pasta on his plate. "You can predict so many things in this world. You can predict how cells will reproduce, if a serum will work, and you can even predict the weather. But people? Predicting what people will do is next to impossible."

"I certainly agree with that," Simmons says.

"I think that's the reason why Anita and I are so fascinated with people. We have different ways of looking at them, but people are what our work is all about. And our differing perspectives make us much stronger as a team."

Simmons always feels the warmth in his voice when he talks about his wife. It is no different now.

"How long have you two been working together?" she asks.

"Since the Academy," he answers, "much like you and Fitz. It's a great place for forging friendships. That's all we were, for a very long time, actually."

"But things changed eventually," Jemma prods.

"Yes, they did. It happened at a wedding. I suppose that's a very appropriate place for it."

"What happened?" She's worrying that he will detect too much curiosity in her voice, but he seems distracted by pleasant memories.

"Well, the wedding was for a buddy of ours. There were a bunch of us from the Academy, a very tight group of friends. All guys, except for Anita, who was Anita Johnson back then. We were more than colleagues; we were family. And I was pretty close to the other guys, but Anita was my lab partner. She and I were inseparable."

Jemma takes a breath in and out as she waits for him to continue.

"Anyway," he says, "I remember sitting at a table during the reception, with Anita next to me, of course. Neither of us were in the mood to dance, so we ate and watched everyone else move to the music. I had a feeling that 'Nita was a little down, so I asked her what was bothering her. That's when she said that this was the beginning of the end."

"Beginning of the end?"

"Yeah, the end of our group. She told me that eventually, everyone in the group would find somebody, and when they did, our merry band would dissolve, one person at a time."

Jemma huffs. "Falling in love doesn't stop you from having friends."

Henry nods. "That's what I told her. But I was looking at it from a guy's point of view, and she was looking at it from a girl's." He reaches up to tap his temple. "Different perspectives. See, Anita knew that for her, all the rules would change. Some things that were normal and innocent would suddenly become wildly inappropriate."

"Like what?"

"Oh, lots of things. Like talking to him alone in his room. Or calling him late to go out for drinks. Two single, platonic friends can do that without a problem. But a single girl and a married guy? That's when things start to get uncomfortable. Especially for the person who makes up the other half of that marriage. I had never looked at it that way before. And when I did? I realized that even the relationship between a single guy and a married guy is different than the relationship between two single guys. I mean, even if the bride joined our group, we would no longer be the priority for them. They would always put each other first, and us second. And that was a lot to take in. I thought about all the other guys in the group, imagining what it would be like when they each found somebody. I pictured losing each of them. And then I imagined losing Anita. That's when it happened."

Jemma sighs. "It's hard to realize that you're going to lose someone."

Henry smiles. "Well, it wasn't just losing her. You're right—that's hard. But that wasn't all of it. It was picturing her happy. Happy with someone else, without me. I pictured her closer to someone else than she was to me. That shook me to the core. I'll tell you, I didn't sleep at all that night. Every time I dozed off, I'd have a nightmare involving a man-shaped barrier between Anita and I. It was then that I knew my feelings for her weren't platonic. She was already a part of me, a part that would get ripped away from my very being if I didn't convince her to stay forever."

"How did you do that?"

"Well, I didn't, at first. I was terrified. And, of course,  I had to figure out exactly how I felt. I started noticing things."

"Things?" Jemma asks.

"Yeah, things like the way her hair moved when she walked, or how her lips curled when she smiled. I had this revelation that I had been working side by side with a goddess. For years!" He chuckled. "But it wasn't just physical stuff, mind you. I started seeing how much she cared for others, and how selfless she was. I started to realize how safe I had always I felt with her, how even when I drove her crazy, she was still on my side. I had been so selfish, taking her for granted all that time. That's something that can happen within a marriage, too. You get so comfortable and complacent that you forget that the person next to you is absolutely amazing. I knew she deserved better than me."

"So, what did you do?"

Henry smirks. "I became better."

Jemma frowns. "I don't understand."

"Well, I showed more affection for her. Some things were subconscious, like calling her Anita instead of Johnson. Other things were intentional. I noticed how much she did to help me, so I started doing more to take care of her. I wanted her to know that she could depend on me. That if things got bad, I'd be-"

"By her side," Simmons finishes.

"Exactly. I worked on that for a few months. It was hard though, keeping my feelings from her. It felt like I was lying to my best friend. Even though I would have rather died than tell her how I felt. It was strange; I wanted to tell her, but I didn't want her to know. I didn't want consequences."

"You didn't want things to change," Jemma sighs.

"Change is hard," Henry agrees, "But inevitable. I was terrified of losing her, but I had to keep reminding myself that my odds of keeping her were much better if I tried than if I did nothing at all. If I never said anything, my chances of failure would be one hundred percent. That gave me the courage to keep moving forward. I asked her out on a date, I was very specific about the date part, and I was shocked when she said yes. I was not shocked when the date was awkward, but that went away soon enough. We ended up getting engaged just a few months later. We knew each other so well that there didn't seem any point in waiting."

Jemma is silent after he finishes, still mulling Henry's words over in her brain. Going on a date with Fitz, she decides, would be awkward. All of the best parts of being his friend, of the comfort and security she felt when they were in the lab together, would disappear when they were in a different setting, under a different context. But what if that was only temporary? What if, eventually, that safety and security bled into every context?

"Well, I'd better go; I have a report to finish. Tell Anita to meet me in the lab when she's done, okay?"

Jemma nods, but she barely processes his words. Her mind is too busy.

It's almost a half hour later when she makes it back to Fitz's room, stopping outside when she sees Anita through the glass. Fitz must not be finished with his session yet, but she looks at the clock and decides that it must be over soon. She leans against the wall as she watches them, wondering how Fitz is handling it all. It must not be going well, because she watches him hang his head, and Anita puts a consoling hand on his shoulder. It's supposed to be a matronly gesture, Jemma knows, but she is suddenly looking at Anita Cahill as if for the first time. The psychologist is tall and well-proportioned, with espresso-colored hair that perfectly compliments her bronze skin. Jemma can't help but look down at her own pasty arms, think of her mousy brown hair. She can see why Henry called her a goddess. Jemma feels like a child in comparison. And even though she knows that Anita is happily married, she can't help but imagine what it would look like if Anita were happily married to Fitz. Then, she imagines Fitz happily married to Anita. She can see them holding hands, him with a goofy grin and a skip in his step. She imagines them making a life together, owning a home, getting a dog, having children. She even imagines Fitz in a tux and Anita in a bridal gown.

It takes Jemma a moment to realize that she's crying.


	4. Chapter 4

She had expected to feel jealousy, or anger. Instead, as she watches Fitz talk to Anita Cahill. Jemma feels a grief that is somehow sharper than the grief she felt in the days when she thought he'd never wake up. And even though it's not real, and it will never happen, she is shaking as she cries. And when she sees that Anita is leaving, she wipes her eyes and pulls herself together. She has enough wits about her to tell Anita where to meet Henry, and she sees the warm smile that the psychologist has at the mention of the physician's name. But Jemma still feels a wave of relief when she is finally alone in the hallway, and the only thing standing between her and Fitz is a transparent door.

Opening that door feels significant somehow, even though she's already done it a thousand times. When she enters the room, she can see him smiling that smile at her, and butterflies erupt inside her. Why didn't they ever do that before?

"Are you okay?" he asks, and she can see that he is studying her, but she tries not to notice. She has to stay composed, or she'll just start crying again.

"Jemma, are you okay? I saw you crying out there." When she sits next to him, he reaches out to touch her shoulder.

"I'm fine, Fitz. I've just . . . I've been doing some thinking."

"I see," he says, averting eye contact. "I've been thinking, too. Dr. Cahill's been helping me."

"Dr. Cahill?"

"Yeah, she's brilliant, isn't she?"

There shouldn't be a knot in Jemma's stomach, but there is. "I don't . . . I haven't spent much time with her."

"Ah." He nods, "Well, I like talking to her. She's been very helpful."

Jemma pauses. "What do you talk to her about?" She hears her own words and panics. "I mean . . . I shouldn't have . . . you don't have to answer that."

He gives a small grin. "Nah, it's alright. To be honest, we've mostly been talking about you."

She suddenly has the courage to look at him and she meets his eyes, pained and searching. She looks away.

"Oh."

"She's helped me realize how it must have affected you, what I did."

"Fitz, you saved me."

"You saved me, too."

She has the courage to look at him again, but he's lowered his head in shame. "I'm not," he says, "I'm not sorry for what I did. I'm not sorry for putting your life before mine, and I'm not sorry for telling you why. I'm just sorry that I didn't give you a chance."

"A chance? You gave me exactly what I needed-"

"Yes, but I decided that only one of us was going to survive. I made sure that you wouldn't find out until it was too late to stop me. I put you in a position where you couldn't choose. And then I . . . I told you how I felt without giving you a chance to respond."

He stops, and she's afraid that she's supposed to say something. The moment of silence lets his words ripen. What would she have said, if he told her a minute, two minutes, or an hour earlier? She doesn't even know what to say now.

"I want you to know," he continues, "that I didn't mean it that way. I was so worried about getting you through that glass that I didn't think about what would happen once you got on the other side. I never thought you would try to take me with you. I certainly never thought that I would hurt you. So, I'm sorry for that." She is watching him, and he raises his eyes to meet hers. "But I'm not sorry that you're okay. That's all I want, Jemma. I want you to be safe. And happy. All this pain, and the therapy, that's worth it if you're happy." He pauses, and she watches him brace himself for what he's about to say next. "So you shouldn't worry about me. You do what you need to, and I'll deal with it."

She takes a breath, in and out, and the words that will fix everything still won't come. So she uses the only words she has.

"Fitz, I told you before that I'd just never thought about us that way."

He sighs. "Yeah, I know. It's okay."

"Well, now I've thought about it." She's trying to remember to breathe, to let the air in, out, and in, but the rhythm is unsteady and gaining speed. "I just . . . Fitz, I don't want to lose you."

"Yeah, I know, but whatever you choose, it doesn't mean we can't still be-"

"No, Fitz. I don't want to lose you, ever." She's shaking, but she won't let it stop her. "I want us to always be us. Fitzsimmons. I don't want to be in that lab, or on this base, if you're not there with me. And I don't know if that means that I love you. Maybe I do. Maybe I can; there are too many variables to know for sure. But I want to find out." She takes his hand. "You are more to me, Fitz. I just, I need to figure out how much."

She dares to look in his eyes and finds that they are shining, wet with tears that fall down his cheeks and land on his broad smile.

"I have a idea," she says, waiting for her courage to build. "And I was hoping you would help me test it."

"What kind of i-"

He can't finish because she's kissing him, in the right place this time, timidly at first until she can't help but deepen it. He takes a second to react, but when he does it's to kiss her back, to put a hand at the nape of her neck and draw her closer to him.

When they're done, she leans her forehead against his, sharing his air they way they always should have. She knows the doubt and uneasiness of the past months are gone, replaced by confidence and a need to know more. It's like she was the one sleeping, and finally her eyes are open.

"It started with a kiss," he breathes, and her mind is so on fire that she almost misses it.

"What?"

"I watched you get ill, and I watched you jump out of that plane, but that wasn't what changed everything. That was all adrenaline and reflexes. It didn't all sink in until later."

She entwines her fingers with his. "When?"

"You came to my bunk, remember?"

"I remember."

"You went through all that, and yet you took the time to make sure  _I_  was okay."

"Well, I had to apologize for hitting you on the back of the-"

"Yes, and then you said I was a hero. And you kissed me."

"On the cheek," she counters.

"Yeah, I know. It's strange isn't it? It was only a peck. But then you walked out, and I was there by myself, thinking of being your hero. That's when it happened." He looks and their hands, and back at her. "You don't fantasize about rescuing your best friend. You fantasize about saving the girl you want to keep. About proving to her that you're worth being with."

She puts her free hand on his shoulder.

"You are worth being with, Fitz."

"Yeah," he says with a smirk, "it's about time you figured that out."


End file.
